


Terrible Things.

by nishinono



Series: Living. [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Babies, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Grudges, Major character death - Freeform, Terrible things, but tbh ill feel better if i write it all the way to the end, i mean my babes, lotta pregnancies, more modern times / flashbacks of the past, pregnancies, sad things, this is hard to write guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishinono/pseuds/nishinono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed, twisting his wedding ring around his finger, the famed Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones cried. He cried, harder than he remembered ever crying, unsure of why or when or how it started, but he knew this was it. He knew that karma was beginning to beat down on him, making him pay for his sins, and he closed his eyes. <br/>Life can do terrible things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible Things.

Terrible Things.  
She knelt on the carpet in their new living-room, a big cardboard box in front of her, unwrapping ornaments and sentimental knick-knacks that meant more to her than almost anything in the world. He stood with an armful of groceries, watching her with such enthusiasm that it made his heart ache. He wasn’t used to this sort of setting, he wasn’t used to seeing her in their home. He wasn’t used to smelling her perfume, that she’d overdosed a little bit on today, or to be holding a paper bag of food they’d be sharing together. He wasn’t used to this pulling feeling in his chest, this welling that made him want to implode. He knew his expression was much softer than she’d ever seen before, and when her eyes raised to meet his and she pushed back strands of her hair behind her left ear, he straightened a little bit.  
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were home,” she murmured in a husky, weary voice that made chills roll down his spine. This was home. And, the moment she used that word, he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He quickly wiped at it with his good hand.  
“Uh… yes. I just got things for dinner. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat tonight.” He responded in his deep, thick accented voice and shuffled awkwardly back into the large kitchen, placing the bag down and beginning to empty it. He heard bare feet cross the carpet, and when he turned to look, she gave his nose a kiss. The affection was enough to make him give her a true, genuine smile that was rare.  
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” She asked, huffing in an irritated way.  
“Well, of course.” He replied, kneeling down and putting his hands on his wife’s stomach, which had definitely done more than its share of showing. He grinned and gave it a little kiss. “Hello, lass.”  
“Lass? How do you know it’s a girl? I thought we agreed to keep it a secret.”  
“Call it a gut feeling, Swan.” Even after she changed her last name to accommodate to the marriage, Killian felt it was too much of an appealing nickname to simply drop. She smirked every time he called her that, and began to look through what he brought.  
“Still getting used to grocery stores, are we?” Emma asked as she picked up a can of sausages and a box of Hamburger Helper.   
“Well, we had markets where I’m from. Not huge buildings where the food is stored safely away from birds and thieves.”  
“Oh, trust me. There’s still thieves. People are stupid here.” She laughed lightly, checking the clock on the wall. “Would you mind picking Henry up from Mary Margaret?”   
He got tense for a moment, flashing a look at his lover, who gave him a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry. King Charming isn’t home right now.”  
Breathing a sigh of relief, Killian pulled his hoodie back on and grabbed her keys. In the past three years, after the dread of the unknown and relentless foes, Killian had learned to drive and wear clothes that were normal for a thirty-five year old to wear. He dangled the keys in the air as Emma dipped her fingers into a veggie platter, and headed off.  
Mary Margaret was rather happy to see him, which relieved him even more. Invited for coffee, he took a seat at her bar as she poured him a cup.  
“So? How’s the new house?” She was chipper, as usual, and leaned over the counter. She’d let her hair grow out again, letting it reach her shoulder blades, but today it was pulled into a neat bun upon her head. He took a sip, hearing movement from upstairs, but didn’t question. It was most likely his son.  
His son… it was odd to call him that.  
“Hook?” He heard Mary Margaret’s voice again and snapped back to reality.  
“Ah? Oh. It’s nice. Emma is starting to nest,” he took another drink, and the woman across from him tilted her head. “Nest?”  
“Mhm. Isn’t that what women do?” He looked at her, alarmed, as if he believed this wasn’t normal.  
“Oh, no! No. It’s perfectly normal.” She gave him a quirky smile, looking up as Henry began to come down. Now a young adult, he stood tall and lanky, a grin on his face at his adoptive father.   
Killian thanked his mother-in-law for the coffee, laid a hand on the shoulder of the body who was almost towering over him, and began to walk back to the old, once yellow but newly painted black, bug that was still as cramped as ever.   
Back home now, Henry began moving around the kitchen and trying to put together a suitable supper for three. Or two and a big portion. Or four.   
Jones took a seat on the couch that had been brought in prior by movers, wrapping his arm over the shoulder of Emma who was playing with her fingernails nervously, arms resting on her stomach. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked forward as if she had laser vision, and he knew she was thinking. He also knew he shouldn’t say anything while she was. It scared him when her head popped up and she threw him a smirk.   
“What time is it?” She asked, in an unusually light tone that made Killian’s heart skip a beat. He checked his pocket watch. “4:32. Why?”  
“Four minutes…” She wiped her hands on her pajama pants, getting up and bustling into the master bedroom. He watched her, counting about twenty breaths, before calling out.  
“What’re you doing?” He asked, and swung one leg up to cross them as a man does and rest his hand on his ankles, leaning forward just enough to look as curious as he was.   
“Just… just wait! Okay?” He saw her shadow move against the door, and then she was standing in the doorway. She was nodding her head and counting as she normally did, and after what seemed like the four minutes she had mentioned, she smiled real big and walked toward him.   
“On September 28th, some weird time in the fairy tale world but about 1979 here, a boy was born. He was super cool, yadda yadda yadda, birthday song. Here. Happy birthday.”  
Emma held out a small envelope, which was a little bulgy. Hesitant, Killian reached out and grabbed it, slowly opening it with about as much delicacy as someone who was petting a bird might.  
When he laid his eyes on the pictures inside, he began to smile again. Emma had gotten closer to him, only standing about a foot away from him, and he looked straight up at her.  
“My God Swan, you broke your own promise,” he murmured, and Henry walked out from the kitchen.  
“What promise?” It startled Killian every time he spoke, as it was deep and a definite bass. He jumped for a second, then showed him the ultrasound photo. Of course, all three of them had no idea how to tell whether it was a boy or girl, but he had it in his hands and that warmed his heart.  
Jones craned his neck forward and kissed his wives – chills ran down his back – stomach, then stood and gave her a sweet, little too long kiss. She was smiling. He laughed.  
When he leaned away, she came back for more, and after another few too long moments, Henry cleared his throat.  
“Sorry,” he murmured, and gave his son a smile.  
-  
Now, as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed, twisting his wedding ring around his finger, the famed Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones cried. He cried, harder than he remembered ever crying, unsure of why or when or how it started, but he knew this was it. He knew that karma was beginning to beat down on him, making him pay for his sins, and he closed his eyes.   
When he opened them, he stared at his hands until arms wrapped around him and held him close. He leaned into them, feeling the warmth, and a familiar voice that sent pins and needles down his spine, caused his heart to race with horror, whispered in his ear. He shut his eyes once more, terrified, counting his breaths.  
“I’ve got you now, deary,” his voice stung his ears.  
He lunged forward, his eyes flying open, and it startled Emma to the point of almost falling out of the bed. She stayed asleep, like a rock, and he began to feel the sweat that had soaked his back on the inside of his shirt. It took him many moments to calm himself down, wiping his face and getting up. The clock read six A.M, which was when he needed to wake up anyway. He heard Henry shuffling about as quietly as his big feet would allow him to, assuming he was getting ready for school.   
He went into the bathroom, power-showered, and changed quickly. Grabbing the keys, he all but floored the pedal to the high school to drop off Henry, and then dropped off at Granny’s.  
Killian sat at the bar, looking like he hadn’t slept at all the night before, and when a cup of coffee (Red knew how he liked it – light cream, hazelnut flavoring, super sweet, double-shot), he politely turned it down. “I think I need something a little stronger.”  
“Rough night?” She asked, making friendly conversation, but he got grouchy and just glared at her in an off-putting way. Normally, Ruby would take the hint, but something kept her talking. She spiked the coffee with an extra few shots on the house, and kept on talking. It took a few minutes for Hook to realize she was the only one there besides him, and she was probably a little lonely.  
At seven fifteen, Mary Margaret and David came in to get their coffees to go, and sparked up a sweet little conversation with him. He smiled right on through, although the voice echoed in his mind.  
Huffing heavily, Killian cupped his chin with his hand, then laid his head down altogether on the counter and let out a low, disgruntled moan.


End file.
